Meeting for the First Time
by Atalntica
Summary: [AU]Hermione's father decides that she's not living the life he wants her to live. So, armed with a plan, he tries to get her back in England and married off to a suitable man. However, his first mistake is asking Harry Potter to help him. Determined to d


"Dad!"

David Granger couldn't help but notice his daughter was surprised to hear from him. Slowly, he swung around on his office chair and placed the previous documents he had been looking at on his large desk.

"Hermione, how are you?" he asked, trying to make light conversation.

"I'm great Dad." She answered. There was a hint of a smile in her voice. "Why are you calling me?"

Hermione shuffled carefully through crowded the dining area, progressing slowly to her table near the window where it would be easier to hear over the loud conversations going on around her.

"Can't I ring my only daughter whenever I feel like it?" Her father replied as she sat down into an elegant chair. Hermione could hear the muffled sounds of him clicking his pen distractedly. It was a sure sign he was up to something.

"Oh, okay."

"So, what are you up to?" David casually placed both feet up onto his desk.

"I'm on a cruise ship at the moment, sailing somewhere along South America, I believe." Hermione told her father as she scanned the menu. She could hear her father spluttering on the other end of the line.

"Since when did you decide to go on a cruise?"

"About a week ago." She murmured trying not to laugh. Her father always seemed to amuse her. She gazed out the window absently, her eyes following the movement of the sea and the colours that changed with the fading sunlight.

"And you never told me?"

Hermione could just imagine her father running his hands through his aging hair. It was exactly what he was doing at that moment. She let out a frustrated sigh, her eyes never leaving the water.

"Stop trying to pick fights Dad. Why is it you've really called?"

"Stop trying to change the subject young lady. I called you because I care about you. Besides, I'm lonely all the way back hear in London." he snapped, getting up from is chair and facing the window behind him. He stared out at bleak London, hating all the ugly greys that the city comprised of. "When are you going to get married and have plenty of grandchildren?"

"So this is what this is all about." Hermione cried into the phone, rubbing on side of her face in irritation. She couldn't believe her father's nerve. Had he always been so forward?

"Yes, well, I've been very lonely since your mother died. Ever since you finished school you've just drifted away. It's almost as if I don't know you anymore."

"Dad…"

'What? I just want what's best for you." he answered tersely; hoping that he knew his daughter well enough that his plan would work and she would come back to England. There, he would have more control over her life and she would do what she was told. Or at least he hoped she would.

'I know," Hermione begun guiltily, "But you have to let me do things my way. I'm only twenty-three. I have a lot time to get married and have kids. Right now, I want to get out there and see the world with my own eyes, not with one's protected by you. How am I able grow up if I have you constantly hounding me about settling down?"

She summoned a waiter and pointed to what she wished to order, giving him a curt nod before he left.

"Hermione…"

"Dad, I have to go. I'll talk to you another time." And she hung up.

Both Hermione and her father sighed simultaneously.

Hermione went back to gazing out the window. She watched the sun set leisurely over the horizon, painting the sea and the sky in colours of red, orange, pink and purple. As she watched, she couldn't help but think about what her father had said.

Maybe it was time for her to settle down, she thought as she ate her meal. However, she couldn't help but wonder if her father was manipulating her.

Whatever he was up to, she still didn't want to go home yet. She was happy living and being what she wanted.

Hermione wanted to see places she had read about in textbooks or had learnt about in Geography. She wanted to taste exotic food that she had only heard about. To talk to people from cultures that seemed unreal to her. She wished to travel the world, to open her eyes to splendour and riches, to learn about another's culture, to feel compassion for people she saw on the streets. She dreamt of reef diving in the Barrier Reef, of walking in the jungles of Brazil, of tasting the food from Mexico and seeing the ruins of Aztec.

But most of all, she wanted to do all of that on her own. To gain her own experiences that would be special to her alone. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was just a little bit strange. All the same, it was what she wanted to do in life.

None of her life goals at the moment required finding her soul mate or having children.

No, they would only stop her from achieving what she wanted in life. She wasn't ready to feel love or to see it in another's eyes.

Even if her father thought that was what was best for her.

"Dad, you're driving me insane." she muttered out loud.

Hermione finished her meal, paid for it and left for the bar. She was in the mood for a glass of Rum 'n Cola. Tiredly, she sat at the bar, placing her head in her hands with an exasperated sigh. Her brain was on haywire. Everything she thought she wanted was starting to crumble around her.

"Hi, can I get you a drink?"

Hermione sat up quickly, pulling stray bushy brown hair away from her face.She looked up straight into brilliant emerald green eyes. Eyes she could have sworn she had seen somewhere before.

"Excuse me?"

"Can I get you a drink?" the man said with a lopsided grin, a grin she could have sworn she knew so well, "I'm the bartender."

"Oh," Hermione blushed, "Yes, I'd like a something very strong thank you." she asked, forgetting about her Rum and Coke.The handsome bartender handed her something she couldn't recognise, watching with amusement as Hermione drank it in one swallow.

"I'm Harry,"

"Hermione," she replied with a nod, still trying to get used to the bitter after taste in her mouth.

"I don't think you should have anymore of those." Harry told her with a laugh. Hermione eyed the decanter in distaste.

"Could I just have a Rum and Coke please?"

"Sounds like a great idea."

She picked up the glass he handed her and swished around the black liquid before downing it in two gulps.

"That's much better." Hermione said, smiling brightly. "May I have another?"

* * *

Two hours and five Rums later, Harry watched the pretty woman in front of him swing herself around on the chair.

"Come on Hermione, I think it's time for you to go back to your room."

"Yur such a gentilman 'Arry," Hermione slurred, trying valiantly to get up from her seat without falling too obviously onto the floor. Harry slid out from behind the counter and slung one of her arms around his shoulder, stopping her from falling flat on her face.

"Whoa, you might want to lay off on the alcohol next time." he told her sternly. Hermione just giggled like a school girl.

"I quite lick… lick… damn it… Oh who gives a shit!" she stammered loudly, causing several patrons in the room to stare her. Many of them muttered in disgust, others just glared at the pair.

"Sorry!" she called out to them, swaying gently despite Harry's firm hold.

"At least she isn't throwing up!" Harry muttered darkly to himself. "How do you feel?" he questioned softly.

"Dizzy!"

Harry winced at the high-pitched shriek. She hardly sounded like the dignified lady he had met two hours ago. Apparently, she didn't get out much. He promptly led her up the stairs and out of the dining room before she embarrassed herself even more. They stood in a long corridor, lined with thirty odd doors. Harry had no idea which one belonged to Hermione.

"Okay Hermione, which one is your room?"

Hermione pulled out a key from her pocket and held up the keychain with her room's number on it.

"That one." she smiled, pointing to the two-digit number.

Harry shook his head and continued down the long corridor, Hermione tucked under his arm. Hermione hardly managed to walk five meters before tripping.

"Oops," she giggled as she rolled onto her back.

"I better be getting paid extra for this." Harry laughed, as he scooped up the drunken woman and carried her the rest of the way.

"Ah! My head hurts!" Hermione complained, squirming in his arms.

Harry just ignored her, relieved when he found her room. Once inside, he put her down gently on the couch and searched through the small kitchen for a glass.

"Here, drink this." he said as he handed her a glass of water.

When she had drunk all of it, he went back to the sink and poured her another one.

After he had given her at least four glasses of water, Hermione had had enough.

"I don't want anymore water!" she cried out.

"It will help with your hang-over in the morning." Harry argued with a small smile.

"I am never getting wasted ever again." she promised him solemnly. She sat up on the couch and motioned for him to sit next to her.

"I should hope so."

Happy that Harry was sitting down, Hermione rested her pounding head in his lap and looked up at him.

"Good night Harry," she whispered, closing her tired eyes.

"Good night." he replied, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. He couldn't get over how familiar she looked. There was something about her… Definitely something, something very familiar about her.

* * *

When Hermione opened her eyes in the morning, she immediately shut them with a groan. For that moment, she hated the sun very much. Her head felt like someone was continually hitting her head with a dull object and her eyes stung like hell.

"Good morning _Sunshine_. How are we feeling today?"

At the sound of a voice, she recoiled immediately. Any sound seemed to be magnified a thousand times and only made her blinding headache worse.

"Make it stop!" she cried, gripping her head in her hands.

There was a soft chuckle. Hermione could hear someone shift on the couch and clatter around in the kitchen.

"You're not much of a morning person are you, Miss Hermione."

"Shhh… Keep it down!" she moaned.

"Here, have some of this."

Gingerly, Hermione opened her eyes, regretting the action instantly. She tried again, not wanting to give up and soon found that if she blinked rapidly, it helped just a little. She squinted at Harry, who despite not having much in the way of sleep, looked pretty damn fine to her. Maybe it was because she was squinting.

"Come on," he cooed, passing her a glass of some red liquid. She eyed it thoughtfully. With a shrug, she took a sip, only to simply spit it out again.

"Ugh, you want me to drink that?"

Harry however, ignored her protest and began to laugh.

"This is not amusing Mr Harry…"

"Potter"

"… Mr Harry Potter. I find that vile liquid disgusting and would rather put up with this bothersome headache!"

"Bothersome headache is it? Why, that is a rather delicate way to describe a hang-over." he chuckled.

Hermione pouted her lips, enjoying flirting with her new-found friend. She sighed heavily, knowing that she would regret not drinking the "vile liquid". She pinched the bridge of her nose and swallowed the rest of the drink quickly.

"Yuck! I hope I never have to have anymore of that stuff again!"

There was a soft ringing noise, coming from somewhere on the couch. Harry nodded in reply to Hermione's words and picked up his cell-phone.

"My Boss," he told her with a smile, before answering the phone.

"Salve, Come sta?" he said in perfect Italian. Hermione frowned, trying to decipher what he was saying. She remembered her father teaching her some brief Italian when she went to Rome with him after her graduation a few years ago.

"Molto bene, grazie,"

She could just pick up what he was saying. She rolled her eyes at his formal tone, and waited until they had finished asking such pleasantries such as: 'Come sta?' (How are you?). She listened warily, getting up to make a cup of coffee so that it was less obvious. She wanted to know why they were talking in Italian.

"… La Donna…"

'The woman?' Hermione thought. Were they talking about her?

"…Il piacere è stato mio..."

"What?" she mumbled to herself, spooning coffee into her mug. She looked up at Harry who was pacing around the room.

"…Non c'è fretta,"

"You're in no hurry to do what?" Hermione asked out loud, her words not going unheard. Harry glanced at her furtively, before going back to his conversation.

"Dice di…"

"What are you saying about me?" she asked him, unsure to whom he was really talking to.

"Non impota, non fa niente." he muttered quickly into his phone. "Si,"

Hermione watched him carefully.

"Ciao." And then he hung up.

"You speak very fluent Italian Mr. Potter." Hermione said, folding her arms over her chest. She wasn't in a position to trust him.

"I lived there for awhile, after I graduated a couple years ago. I took up learning the language. It's fairly easy to learn after you learn so much Latin in school." he answered. She would have believed him if it wasn't for the uneasy look in his eyes.

"You're not very good at lying Harry. Did you really live in Rome after you finished school?"

"Yes I did. It begun as a very long holiday, but I fell in love with the place and decided to live there for awhile."

Hermione nodded, sitting back down on the couch. She sighed deeply, stretching out her legs on the coffee table, proceeding to take a greedy sip of her coffee. Harry came to sit next to her, placing his phone on the small table next to her feet. He smiled at her and rested his tired head on her shoulder, falling immediately asleep.


End file.
